A Fading Reminder
by Lia Felix
Summary: He was a templar, and she was a mage. She was his prisoner in the stone tower that stretched up to the heavens, and he was her executioner. [A series of drabbles/short oneshots based around the events of DA:O]
1. REGRET

_A/N: I own nothing. Characters belong to Bioware. I simply take them out to play. _

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**1. REGRET**

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He stood guard outside the apprentice dorms, and he hated himself. He hated the fact that he volunteered for this particular post. He hated the fact that the Knight-Commander agreed without a sign of hesitation. And he hated the fact that even after years and years of training to keep everything in check, his body still betrayed him.

The doors next to him creaked open, and Cullen couldn't help but turn his head slightly to check who it was. And as luck would have it – or ill fortune, he still wasn't quite sure which one it was just yet – it was her.

She walked out with multiple books stacked in her arms, tottering slightly under the weight of the heavy tomes. _How can she see anything over those?_ He wondered. He resisted the urge to reach out, to help her (after all, templars don't help mages with anything - unless it's to help them into death if they became abominations).

"H-hello," his voice came out of him unthinkingly, stuttering like a mad man. He suppressed the urge to run and leap out of the nearest window. Barely.

She jumped slightly, but even that was enough to send the mountain of books toppling over onto the ground. Without thinking, he moved forwards and began scooping them up, barely managing to stammer out apologies. The sound her soft chuckle however caused him to look up in shock. She smiled at him and tucked her flame red hair behind her ear.

"It's fine, Cullen," she said, picking up the last of the tomes in her arms. "It's my fault really. I thought I could save myself a trip by carrying all of them to the library at once. I should've known that it wasn't going to be that easy." She gave him a sheepish look and bit her lip.

A hot flush ran through him as he stared at her (and tried not to stare at her mouth). He quickly ducked his head in an attempt to hide the fact that if there was a competition for who looked the most like a tomato, he would probably win it by a mile. It was no wonder that the others kept commenting and asking whether he was coming down with something so often, if this was how his body reacted every single time she was nearby.

Maybe he had a certain masochistic streak in him. Maker knew he willingly put himself through this torture.

She sighed and looked around at the stacks of books.

"I suppose two trips are in order then," she mutters to herself and straightens up with half the books in her hand.

"I-I could… you know… help you c-carry them?"

She looked up at him, startled. Cullen felt his cheeks burn brighter.

She shifted slightly and looked down at her slippers.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said softly.

He flushed again and stood up straight, gritting his teeth at his own stupidity. Of course. Bad idea to help a mage. Bad idea to _talk_ to a mage. And yet here he was standing in front of her, offering to carry books for her.

He turned his head and gazed at the stone wall, at the tapestry hanging from the ceiling (at anywhere but her). Behind him, he could hear her awkwardly shuffling the rest of the books and stacking those, and then a tiny cough drew his eyes back to her again. She refused to meet his eyes as she walked back into her dorm with half the original stack, placing them down in her trunk before ducking back out to pick up the rest.

She straightened and glanced around the corridor. The hall was empty of mages and Templars alike – for now, at least. She cleared her throat and looked back at him, a small, sad smile on her face. Her hand reached out and brushed the edge of gauntlet.

"Thank you for offering, Cullen," she whispered before walking as fast as she could towards the stairs.

He felt his heart settle back into his ribcage with a lurch, and pressed his gauntlet to his face. The cool metal helped clear his thoughts.

He returned to his post, staring ahead and barely blinking.

He hated himself.


	2. IF DREAMS WERE WISHES

**2. IF DREAMS WERE WISHES**

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_(A/N: drabbleish, short - Cullen dreams of Amell.)_

–

He dreams of her. Sometimes it's innocent, and often it's anything but. And sometimes, he wakes up and all he wants to do is to go back to sleep and never wake up again.

He dreams of a cottage on the outskirts of of a small town. The weather is warm and the air is perfumed with flowers. He dreams of her, standing at the door with a smile on her face as she sees him. Her hair is longer, and her eyes are brighter than he's ever seen them. She's not wearing the robes that mark her as a mage, just a simple dress.

In his dream, he can walk up to her and kiss her and no one would care. And she returns his kiss with a laugh and throws her arms around his neck. In his dream, they're happy.

And then of course, it ends.

He opens his eyes and he's back in his bed, surrounded by stone walls and the pressing weight of his guilt. Guilt for wanting what he couldn't have.

He closes his eyes and swallows the sadness that threatens to overwhelm him. He will do his duty. He can't falter.

He repeats the chant in his head.

Just before sleep overtakes him again, it occurs to him that he's never heard her laugh before.


End file.
